I glanced at the window. “Do you honestly think I’ll fit through there?”
“It’s a ridiculous time to fish for compliments on your body, Cunningham,” she teased, “but for sure you will.”
“What if the others follow us out?” I asked, glancing toward the group, who were still just leisurely hanging out like there wasn’t a zombie war about to begin.
“They won’t because you’re going to tell them not to,” she said in a hushed voice. “Everyone was giving you the whole ‘ohmigod it’s him’ look on the truck, so they’re all in awe of the football golden boy. So if you just say something like ‘We’re going to provide a distraction so you guys can get out safely, no one follow us’ they will totally listen.”
“You want me to lie and get them thrust into the gunfire?” I asked with a laugh. She was fuckingcoldwith this. “I can’t do that.”
“Oh my God, you were the one saying this isn’t real so why with the ethics,” she whispered, her mouth turning up into a smile as she gave me an exaggerated eye roll. “Fine, don’t lie, just tell them not to follow us and they’ll still listen to you because you’re you.”
“Um—”
“Listen,” she interrupted. “We need to go now because you know the zombies are all lined up, waiting for these people to move. We gotta go before it’s too late.”
Without missing a beat, she turned toward the group.
“Excuse me,” she said, stepping away from me. “We’re going to go out this window because we want to split up the group and try to not all get mowed down by gunfire at the same time. Hopefully some of the zombies will chase us and you guys will have a better chance, but the goal is to scatter them. I just wanted to let you know so you don’t freak out when you see us go through the window.”
“But don’t follow us,” I added, feeling slightly guilty for saying that when this was just a silly game that no one truly cared about except for Duffy Distefano.
“Why not?” asked a man with huge square glasses that reminded me of Harry Caray. “Why can’t we follow you?”
“I mean, it’s a free country, so you’re welcome to follow whoever you want, but this is her idea, and I think it’s terrible,” I said, realizing how to make this work. “She’s not actually known for her good judgment.”
“That’s right, she’s the girl who beat up Carl,” the man’s wife said, nodding.
“I didn’t beat up—”
“That’s her,” I said, cutting off Duffy. “So we’re going to go through the back, but please think about your next moves. It really may not be the best idea to follow us.”
As soon as I said that, I heard her sliding the window open behind me.
“It’s so sweet that he’s willing to lose for her,” the big-haired blonde in the corner said. “And that he warned us not to follow. I really don’t think we should.”
“He’s a good guy,” someone else said.
I turned and watched as Duffy hoisted herself up with her arms and quickly popped through the open window. I still wasn’t sure my ass was going to fit through there, but I was willing to risk it to follow her.
She immediately disappeared from my line of sight, and I loved her verve. I hurled myself through the opening, squeezing and wriggling a little to get through. There was a solid half second where I thought the jaws of life would have to pull me from the window, but fortunately I made it.
I dropped to a crouch next to Duffy as soon as I landed. It was getting dark, and we were underneath a bunch of bushes, but you could hear the sounds of the pumpkin patch off in the distance and smell the smoky scent of firepits.
“So I think we should sprint in that direction,” she said, pointing toward the dark forested area. “It’s the absolute wrong direction, but that’s how we get on the offensive and start trackingthem.”
“You want to go backward?” I asked.
“Feigned retreat, Football. We run backward, we hide, then we get to see them in front of us and know where everybody’s at while they try to figure out where we went and what we’re doing. Once we have them in our sights, we make our move.”
“Why do I feel like this is very Tony-coded?” I asked.
That made her smile. “Because it is. I’ve spent a lifetime watching his beloved war documentaries, and between that and deer hunting with him and my brothers, I feel like I’m unhealthily excited to kick some zombie ass.”
“Yeah, you are definitely that,” I said, “but it’s surprisingly cool.”
“Surprisingly cool, huh?” she said quietly, still smiling as she added, “High praise from the MVP.”
“There you go, busting my ass again,” I said.
